The Hostages
by Dimatariel
Summary: (COMPLETED!) Marco needs cash. But will he be able to smooth-talk his way out of the situation when a crazy, paranoid robber attacks the bank Marco's in, and takes the bank customers as hostages? Please R&R!
1. The Banker Encounter

My second Animorphs fanfiction, this is fun! I'm working on chapters for both of them, but the other's one slightly longer and more dramatic... Anyway, enjoy, and please review!  
  
***  
  
  
  
My name is Marco.  
  
I needed cash.  
  
We're in this whole, stupid thing with saving the world from evil aliens and all that, but like we always say - don't forget to live a normal life.  
  
I have to do homework, go to school, watch my father smooch with all his lady friends, and still save the world. So, I figured one day at school, I was entitled to have a bit of fun for myself. I wanted to go see a movie.  
  
Of course, there was one very obvious reason to why I wanted to go see a movie on a Tuesday evening. And that reason was Polly.  
  
Polly was a girl one year older than me, and she was GORGEOUS. Not only that, but she was smart, too. And funny. And charming. And liked my company.  
  
That's true, she liked my company. That's what she said herself.  
  
"I like your company," she said, smiling.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Rachel said. "Stop talking, Polly, before you get yourself into any deeper trouble."  
  
Of course, the reason why I had gotten to know Polly, was that Rachel was a friend of hers. Typical. They had gymnastics practice together, and they often talked outside the gymnasium - like this day, when they had been standing in the corridor talking as I, the handsome one, had approached, spotting the perfect excuse to get to know Polly, by letting Rachel introduce me.  
  
"Hey, Rach," I'd said. "Cassie's looking for you." That was a lie, but I needed something to start a conversation, otherwise Rachel would have said straight out that I was only after getting to know Polly, which would of course have been very embarrassing for me.  
  
"Thanks," Rachel had said, and added: "You know Polly?"  
  
And like that, we'd met. And Polly had started talking about going to see the latest Morgan Freeman movie that very same evening with a few friends, and added that if I was interested in seeing that film, maybe we'd spot each other at the threatre.  
  
And then she'd said she liked my company. Amazing, after only talking together for a few minutes she had already decided she liked my company. Not even Rachel's horrible, smooth comments could kill the pefect atmosphere.  
  
I was in love.  
  
It had to be the real thing, Polly was so beautiful. And not even taller than me, like so many girls are. It's really nice that a girl isn't taller than you, especially if you're planning on doing more with her than just talk. (Don't get me wrong, I love to talk, but couples do more than just talk. It's true.)  
  
  
  
So back to the issue of cash. You see, I was of course planning to go see the latest Morgan Freeman movie that Tuesday evening and ACIDENTICALLY meet Polly there. But I was broke. Literally, I had NO money. And so I'd hurried home after school, begged my father for some money to go see a charity show, gotten his credit card at last (which I think I just got because he wanted to stop my whining), and I had been off to the bank.  
  
My plan was brilliant. I was getting cash, taking some money from my father's account. I wouldn't take more than I needed, of course - I'm an honest person, and I like my father entrusting me with his credit card. It's very useful ...  
  
I finally reached my father's bank and realized that stupid ATM machine was out of order. So of course, I had to go into the bank, wait in line and take some money out with help from a casheer.  
  
I went inside and took a number. It wasn't too long to wait for me, which was lucking, seeing as how I had a movie to catch.  
  
The bank wasn't exactly swarming with people. Besides me there were four there, two men and a woman, all wearing business clothes and carrying important suitcases. I felt kind of like a stupid kid showing off with daddy's credit card among these people, but it didn't ruin my mood. NOTHING could ruin my mood.  
  
Of course, with exception of exactly what had to happen: A bank robbery.  
  
For just as my number was about to be called up, a guy wearing a hood ran into the bank. "This is a robbery!" he cried.  
  
"Oh, damn," I whined quietly - making sure the robber couldn't hear it.  
  
The three other customers and the bank tellers screamed. Personally, I preferred standing still and pretending to be dead, to cause as little fuzz as possible and get the whole thing quickly overwith. Just rob the bank and leave! I thought. I'm in a hurry here!  
  
The robber went up to the counter, and pulled a rather dark and nasty-looking pistol out of his big jacket. "Gimme all the cash you've got!" he said to the bank teller, which had by now stopped screaming.  
  
"Whatever you say, sir, just don't shoot anyone!" She took off somewhere and was probably going to collect the money.  
  
"Nobody do anything stupid, you hear?!" the robber screamed at us customers, and we nodded, behaving nice and cool. I thought to myself that this robber had to be a rookie. By letting the bank teller go off on her own, he had given her an opportunity to go call the police, or run off. And by showing off his gun as late as he did, she had probably pressed the alarm button even before he'd demanded the money.  
  
I wasn't wrong. Just as the teller returned with what seemed to be an unbelievable small sack of money, which the robber quickly grabbed, a voice from outside called: "This is the police! Come out with your hands up! We've got the bank surrounded!"  
  
"Oh no!" the robber squealed, clutching to his gun with one hand and the sack of money with the other. Then, he decided to do what I'd feared he might do - go to the door and shout to the police: "Don't try anything! I've got hostages!"  
  
Then he turned and looked at us customers. "You're hostages!" he said, in case we hadn't realised.  
  
"Oh, GREAT," I said, and sat down in a chair, checking my watch. I had exactly half an hour before the Freeman movie started. Could I make it? Maybe if this robber guy would speed things up a bit. For once, I wished the police would just let the bad guy get away in order to keep the hostages alive, in stead of trying to get their hold of the robber AND keeping the hostages alive. The police never settles for one good thing, they need both.  
  
I knew there were a lot guys out there who were worse than this robber with his tiny sack of money and his shaking body language. The Yeerks, for instance.  
  
But by the look of the robber, it still seemed as though he wasn't planning on giving up so quickly. And if either he or the police decided to do something fast, I was going to miss my chance to meet up with the lovely Polly outside of school ...  
  
***  
  
  
  
Hope this sounds exciting, I'll get the next chapter up quite quickly, I'm just hoping for some reviews so I know what people think of my stories... Thanks for reading! 


	2. A Robber Called Gene

Right, the second chapter ... I'm not quite sure when this takes place, but it's after book #5, and it's before Marco and his father moves into the Hork-Bajir valley. And I'd love some reviews ...  
  
***  
  
  
  
"All right, and no messing around!" he practically squealed, still pointing at us poor, innocent victims with the gun.  
  
We were standing up against a wall, hands raised. Normally, I wound have been just as terrified as the other customers in the bank. They were shaking, offering to write the robber a big fat check if they'd let him go, offering to get him a juicy government job, offering to be his lawyer ... One of the guys even offered his WIFE to get out of there. Some people are really insane.  
  
But I wasn't as afraid as these. I've seen better reasons to be afraid, I've faced bigger danger and felt more fear. This was nothing to me. I'd figured I couldn't morph in front of these people, so I couldn't be Marco who Saves the Day. I didn't want to blow my cover, after all.  
  
Which made the whole situation rather silly through my eyes. There I was, a kid with a power to become any animal possible, a kid who's knocked countless of the Hork-Bajir to the floor, who's faught Visser Three in person, standing with my hands up against the wall like some normal victim. I had to giggle.  
  
"Why are you laughing, kid?!" yelled the robber. "This is serious!"  
  
"Oh, sorry," I said. "I know, I know. It's serious. I'll stop laughing." I tried, but it was really difficult. I know, he could shoot me at any moment, but I just didn't feel any fear. I'd lived through worse. And besides, I was missing my potential date - no reason for me to behave like a slave for this robber guy, he could be ruining my meeting with Polly and her cool friends.  
  
"Good!" the robber cried. "Or you'll be in trouble!"  
  
"Yeah yeah, I know," I whined. This was just great. Standing up against a wall with my hands raised? I hadn't done that for years. The only time I could recall doing exactly that had been as a kid when I'd played thief and robber with Jake, and he'd caught me and demanded I raised my hands and marched indoors in order to be tied to a chair.  
  
So now, I couldn't help myself but laughing again, just for remembering that moment we were just cute, young boys playing games in Jake's back yard.  
  
The robber stared at me.  
  
"What?" I said, raising my eyebrows.  
  
"You laughed again!" he yelled.  
  
"Sorry," I grinned, trying to keep cool and stop laughing.  
  
"What are you doing, kid?!" the guy next to me in the fancy suit whispered. "You're gonna get us all killed!"  
  
"Nah, relax, it takes more than a hostage situation to kill a man," I whispered back. "I know this. I've seen the shows, I've had the necessarily experience. Trust me."  
  
The guy just rolled his eyes and stared up into the ceiling as if he was praying for his life.  
  
The robber had backed towards the bank door, still pointing the gun towards us. Obviously, he was trying to bargain with the police. "NO!" I heard him yelling. "I will not send one out!"  
  
"We need to know if the hostages are okay," I heard a police man call from outside. "We need proof that they are in there. Bring out a bank employee or a customer to show you have hostages."  
  
"There are no bank employees, they all took off through the back door," the man next to me whispered. "Maybe he'll have to send one of us out there. As proof we're here, alive and well. Maybe he'll let one of us go!"  
  
"Don't count on it," I grinned, taking my hands down while the robber was yelling out through the bank door, minding his own business.  
  
"Fine!" I heard him finish to the police, as he turned back towards us. "Hey!" he yelled at me. "Get your hands back up, kid! D'you think I'm kidding? I'll shoot you!" He was shaking now, even more than the guy next too me, as if it was the ROBBER who was held at gun point.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," I said, raising my hands again.  
  
"All right," the robber said, approaching us. "They want some proof. So I'm gonna let one of you go. Okay? One of you can go out there, I don't need four hostages."  
  
"Oh, pick me, sir!" the guy next to me pleaded. "I have a very bad heart! If you keep me here any longer, I'm sure to die anyway! I'll have a heart attack! I'll die of fear, please use me as proof!"  
  
"The woman," the robber said.  
  
"Tough luck," I whispered to the guy.  
  
"Shut up, you're gonna get us killed."  
  
The robber took the woman with him outside. Meanwhile, I started looking around the bank. Had the bank employees gone out a back door? It was probably inside the workers' restricted areas or something, so it would be difficult for me to just run off there without the robber noticing - he was still standing yelling through the door, pushing the woman outside. He probably wouldn't go far enough out for us to make a runner.  
  
But I seized the opportunity to get a bit more comfortable.  
  
I lowered my arms and took a seat at the nearest chair. It felt good to sit, after wearing out my arms up against that wall. "Aaah," I said pleased.  
  
"Will you get over here?!" the man I'd been next to whined. "We're gonna die!"  
  
"Listen to him, kid, this is dangerous," the other guy said, one that seemed a bit more in control.  
  
"Hey, I've lived through worse," I said. "This robber's ruining my potential date, the least thing I can demand is a bit of comfort."  
  
At that moment the robber returned to us after having freed the woman. Naturally, his eyes twitched when he saw me sitting comfortably in a chair. "What?!" he squealed, the arm with the gun shaking and apparently dripping with sweat. "What do you think you're doing? I'll shoot you!"  
  
"You wouldn't shoot a kid with no mother?" I said.  
  
"Oh, wouldn't I?" he replied, staring nervously at me, as though he was hesitating.  
  
"What's your name, sonny?" I said to him, smiling.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he screamed. "I'm holding a gun at you, kid! I'll kill you! You'll die! This is a real gun, and you'll die!" It sounded as though he was convincing himself, not me. Well, if it WAS me, he did a pretty bad job.  
  
"That's a funny name," I said, grinning.  
  
He hesitated again. "Uh ... Shut up! You're dead!"  
  
"No, no," I said, basically treating him as a mental patient. He was really kind of funny, in a scary dangerous sort of way. "I'm alive. Can't you tell?"  
  
"Shut up! I know what you're trying to do," he whispered, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "You're trying to distract me. You've probably been watching NYPD Blue or Pacific Blue or something like that, and now you think you can use your psycho-methods on me. Well, it won't work."  
  
"Fine, it won't work," I said, relaxing in the chair. "That's okay. I just asked for your name. What's your name, Mr. Robber?"  
  
He was shaking even more by now, but he still held me at gun point. "My name? My name is GENE, God damnit! Now get up against that wall!"  
  
I had to laugh again. GENE? A tough bank robber with a gun named GENE? That had to be a joke. No cool bank robber is called Gene. It's a violation to the rules of the criminals. Gene is not a cool name, ergo no bank robber or gangster can use that as a professional name.  
  
"GENE?" I repeated, ignoring his demand. "Your name is GENE? Who names their son Gene? And what son named Gene turns out as a bank robber? You should be a real estate agent or something, not a robber! Let me tell you something, if a guy named GENE decides to become a robber, he changes his name, okay? Or at least uses some nickname. What's your full name?"  
  
"Gene Richard Bullet," he said, shaking, at now his eyes were twitching like crazy. "Get! Up! Against! The wall!"  
  
"Now this is interesting," I said, scratching my ear. "Your name is Gene Bullet. In a bank robbery that YOU commit, you introduce yourself as GENE when someone asks you what your name is. And yet, your last name is BULLET. Why don't you just introduce yourself as Bullet? 'My name is Bullet the Bank Robber.' That is so much cooler, and so much more realistic."  
  
Gene the Bank Robber stared at me.  
  
I think I may have insulted him.  
  
  
  
***  
  
Right, things are happening. Don't know how this chapter actually turned out, but we'll see soon enough. Please review, I'd appreciate it ... 


	3. How to Push too many Buttons

The third chapter, wow... Lets hope this is getting us somewhere...  
  
***  
  
  
  
Gene the Bank Robber was wandering across the floor, rubbing his tired face with one hand, and clutching the gun with the other. His negotiations with the police wasn't going too well. He still had three hostages, but the police just wouldn't move away and let him ecape with the money.  
  
He'd been pretty close to getting away at one point, convincing the police that unless he was allowed to run away he would kill the youngest hostage: A mere kid. Me, of course.  
  
Luckily, I'd managed to yell to the police from my comfortable chair that Gene and I had become good friends, and that there was no chance of him shooting me. In fact, I'd said, it was a chance that Gene and I would go into business together, share the profits, live the glamorous life in the Bahamas.  
  
By the time I mentioned the ladies in bikinis dancing around Bahamas beach, the police had decided not to let Gene the Bank Robber go for at least an hour or so, in hope that they'd find a solution in the meantime ... Apparently, they didn't think Gene was being serious in threatening to kill a hostage, since he'd clearly become such good friends with the kid.  
  
"You." Gene's voice was shaking, his eyes quivering and the gun in his hand slipping from the sweat. But he was still pointing it directly at me. "You! If you so much as SPEAK again... ONE word, and I swear I'll kill you."  
  
"Nah, you won't," I said. "I thought we'd become friends?"  
  
"Friends? Have you lost it, kid?!" he squealed. "We're far from friends. But unless you start shutting up soon, we won't meet again until we're both in HELL!"  
  
"Oh, don't be so damn melodramatic!" I said with a grin. "You claim I sound like a person from TV-series? You should listen to yourself! The line, 'See you in hell!' is so old! You should really stop using that to threaten your hostages in the future, they might not take you too seriously."  
  
"HEY!" he cried, and I swear he spit on me. "Stop saying stuff like that! You have to take me seriously, because I'M the bank robber! And I'M the one holding a gun here! So just be quiet, or be dead."  
  
"Are those the only choices?"  
  
"Yes, God damnit! Those are the only choices! Now shut up, or you will be dead!"  
  
"You've told me that already."  
  
At that point, I think Gene almost broke down and cried. He was shaking like mad, and I'm pretty sure I saw tears in his panic-attacked eyes. He rubbed himself in the face frantically and wiped off tons of sweat. He had to be REALLY nervous, it looked like he would have a breakdown at any moment.  
  
"Look," I finally said in a caring, calm voice when he'd calmed down. "This is obviously a bad time for you to be robbing a bank." I got up and patted him kindly on the back, trying to be like some sort of a pal for him. "Sure you don't wanna go home and watch some TV in stead? Just put all of this behind you? I don't think robbing's the job for you, buddy. You know, you should always quit a job if it makes you stress and sweat. And believe me, you're stressing and sweating now."  
  
He stared up at me.  
  
"Hey, believe me," I said reassuringly, "I know these things. I can tell when a man is in a bad place. You should just call all of this off. Go home, ey? What do you say?" I checked my watch. "I've got some place to be in exactly ... seven minutes, fourty-two seconds, so lets just pretend this robbery never happened. You can just walk out of that door and home to your TV, and I can go off and catch my movie. Okay?"  
  
The two other hostages, still up against the wall with their arms raised, stared at me with a crazy look, like I was the mad guy in the scene, not Gene the Bank Robber.  
  
Gene stared at me, his eyelids shivering madly. "You," he squealed again, and I think the look in his eyes went from panic to insane anger. Maybe I'd pushed too many of his buttons with what I'd just said, patting him on the shoulder and all that ...   
  
"You're dead," Gene insisted, and pointed his big gun one inch away from my face.  
  
All right. Maybe I had exaggerated a bit.  
  
  
  
***  
  
I think this chapter's a bit short, but that's the way it turned out, sorry... I'm working on the next one, with a big thing between Gene the Bank Robber and Marco. (No love thing, though, for all you out there with a psycho mind who jumps to that conclusion when I say "big thing"...) But please review, and I'll soon post the next chapter! 


	4. Ruthless Criminal

Right, it's been a while now, but finally the fourth chapter's up... I hope you'll enjoy it, and please review, that's what keeps me from giving up this writing. ;) Right, back to the action:  
  
***  
  
  
  
I admit it. Having a gun pointing directly at me did make me loose some of my valuable confidence. But I've had worse guns than this one pointing at me before, and survived it. I could survive this.  
  
The difference was, this time I couldn't morph.  
  
"You're dead." For some strange reason, Gene the Bank Robber kept repeating himself. "You are so dead."  
  
"Oookay," I said with a stupid grin. "Whatever you say, pal."  
  
"I'm not your pal!" Gene insisted. "I'm a goddamn bank robber! And you're held at gun point, so I suggest you think before you speak!"  
  
"Sorry, that's not how I work." I grinned again, with a feeling telling me that Gene wouldn't pull the trigger. He just didn't seem ready for it, although he insisted he would.  
  
"You're dead," he said again. "Stop making those stupid comments all the time! You're distracting me!"  
  
"I didn't know one could get distracted from robbing a bank," I said. "I mean, sure you could if the police interrupted, but you've got that problem sorted out. So what can be so distracting? When you're robbing a bank, you're just supposed to run in, get the money, and run out. Shoot whoever's in the way."  
  
"And I will!" Gene said in a high, shaking voice that really made me more afraid than the gun he was pointing at me. This guy didn't seem too okay, he seemed... crazy. At best.  
  
"Shut up, kid, you're so young," the other hostage on the left moaned to me. This was the sensible guy, of couse, not the maniac who I'd been standing next to up against the wall. "You don't wanna die."  
  
"Shut up, or I'll shoot YOU!" Gene screamed at the guy, turning the gun towards him.  
  
"No!" the guy yelled. "I just wanted to help the kid! Shoot him, he's the one who's showing you no respect! I'm up against the wall with my hands in the air, I'm innocent! I'm just a bystander, really."  
  
"You're as big a coward as the other guy," I muttered. The other guy, the really scared one, stared angrily at me through the thousands of tears pouring down over his face.  
  
"Shut up, you idiots!" Gene practically collapsed. "I'M the robber here! I tell you to shut up, and you SHUT THE HELL UP! Understand?!"  
  
The two other guys nodded. Gene the Bank Robber turned towards me. "And you, kid... I swear, if you annoy me again I will honestly and sincerely kill you."  
  
"Whatever you say, Bullett," I grinned. "I'll try to behave."  
  
"You better," he replied and started walking backwards towards the door, probably to try and negotiate again with the police, hoping that I wouldn't interefere this time.  
  
I checked my watch. Yep. Three minutes ago, the film started. Polly was out of my reach. She probably thought I hadn't cared enough to show up. That she wasn't important to me. That seeing a movie with her wasn't that interesting...  
  
This was all that stupid Gene's fault! I'd lost the most important evening possibly of my LIFE because of him!  
  
"This is just GREAT," I moaned and sat down in the chair again. No money, no movie, no Polly. Just Gene the Bank Robber.  
  
I'd been like a father to him. I'd consulted him when he was afraid of the police, and I'd cracked jokes to make him feel better. This was his reward? To delay this hostage situation long enough for me to miss my movie? He was so ungrateful...  
  
"Well, there's no more playing games!" I heard Gene cry to the police. He left the door and went back to us. The mad look in his eyes had gotten even crazier now, it looked as though his very eyeballs were about to pop out. The shivering hands and the sweat didn't make his apperance any better, either. "Look," He said, staring at us three hostages. "The police won't take me seriously. They believe I have arranged this hostage situation, to make them believe I would kill somebody if they didn't let me go. YOU made them think this," he said to me. "YOU, you stupid little kid! With your stupid talk about Bahamas and us going into business together! You made them think I wasn't serious about killing one of you! But I am. Oh, you bet I am!" He was shaking wildly, pointing the gun at each of us in turns. "Should I shoot you first?" he said to the most frightened guy, who just replied by gulping and crying out, and probably wetting himself as well...  
  
"All right, all right." I sighed and got up again. "Gene, my man, if you're gonna shoot anybody you should shoot me. I'm the reason you're still in here."  
  
"The first sensible thing you've ever said," Gene replied.  
  
"However," I continued, "YOU are also the reason I'M still in here. So I guess we're even."  
  
"What are you talking about? You've got no right to complain, kid! You can't talk to me about morals, I'm a ruthless criminal! You're under my mercy!"  
  
"Nah," I said. "You know, Gene, I had some respect for you at first. You're just trying to make it in this world, like the rest of us... This is your way of survival, I respect that. At least you're trying, right? But I lost my total respect for you - lets see - seven minutes ago."  
  
Gene just stared at me. I think I was driving him crazy. But hey, I was going to leave him with some guilt, after I'd lost my big chance with Polly because of him. "You made me miss one of the biggest moments of my life," I explained. "I had... a DATE. And what did you do? You kept me here! Stupid jerk!" I was moaning now, more than explaining. I had to get my feelings out, right?  
  
"Do you think I care about some stupid teenage date?!" Gene cried. "Why are you telling me this? I'm gonna kill you! I am, this time it's for real! I'm gonna show those stupid police men that I'm a real criminal, not some idiot making his friends fake a hostage situation... I'm gonna kill you, kid!"  
  
He pointed the gun at me again, and I felt I'd experienced this too many times with him by now. But at that moment, as I stared at him and towards the gun, I noticed something rather strange...  
  
  
  
***  
  
Right, that's it for now... I'll try to get the next chapter up soon, we're closing in on an ending here... Please review! 


	5. The End

Right, fifth and last chapter...! Get ready for the big climaxe, if it so can be called... Also, I knicked a little joke from The Curse of Monkey Island here, see if you can spot it... Enjoy!  
  
***  
  
  
  
"Uhm... Gene? Mate?"  
  
I managed to make him look in my eyes, instead of on his gun and my head, which he was pointing it at. "Yeah, what?!" he cried. Now I could clearly see a tear preparing to leave his eye.  
  
I looked at Gene, and then back at the gun. Gene, the gun, Gene, the gun. Was I right?  
  
I looked at the gun one more time. Yep. I was right.  
  
"Where did you aquire your weapon, Mr. Bullett?"  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Your gun, man. Where did you get it?"  
  
"None of your damn business!" Gene cried to me. "I've told you to stop talking! You're gonna die now, you know?!"  
  
I lifted my hands in the air, as if to calm him down. "Hey, relax, I just wanna know where you got your little plaything there. Where d'you get your gun, Gene?"  
  
His eyes squivering, trying to fight the tears, he replied to me, "I got it from a big dealer, kid! He sells plenty of guns! He's a bad guy, you don't wanna mess with him. Now shut up, let me concentrate on killing you!"  
  
I looked suspiciously at both Gene the Bank Robber and his little gun. "This dealer of yours... Where does he work? Like, in a toy factory?"  
  
Gene's face instantly changed shape, and he lowered the weapon immediately. "What?" he said, his voice shaking.  
  
I shrugged. "It would seem as though this little handgun of yours is from a toy factory. You know, a children's plaything. Know what I'm saying?"  
  
"No!" he beamed, and raised the gun again. "And this is your last warning! One more peep out of you, and I'll shoot you!"  
  
"Peep," I said. "There. Fire at will. Go ahead. Finish me off."  
  
"Oh, I will!" Gene squealed. "You shut up, or I will!"  
  
"Fine, go ahead, I wanna die," I sighed. How long would it take him before he realized what I'd realized? I guess his fear and obsession and madness made him ignore the truth for quite a while.  
  
"YOU'RE DEAD!" Gene cried, his voice more filled with rage and insanity than ever before. At this moment, I believe he really did lose it. His entire body was shaking, and his face was dripping in a combination of sweat and tears. I think my provoking him had been too much, because at that moment - he pulled the trigger.  
  
And I had my theory confirmed.  
  
A small beam of water flew at full speed directly towards my face, and left me wet and a bit put out. I'd seen correctly. Gene's fearsome weapon from the dangerous gundealer was in fact a water pistol.  
  
Gene stared at his gun, and at my wet face as I wiped off the water. He didn't say anything, or do anything sensible. He just started shouting uncomprehensible noises and squeals, more bisarre than those he'd made earlier that evening.  
  
"Gene, Gene, Gene," I sighed as I'd wiped my face dry. "You shouldn't have fired. Maybe you'd gotten away if you hadn't."  
  
I noticed the two terrified hostages behind me lowering their hands, talking like crazy, clearly shocked that no one had noticed this fraud earlier.  
  
Gene collapsed. He dropped the water pistol to the floor, and followed it shortly after, falling into a pile of legs, arms, torso and head on the bank floor, crying and screaming and whining.  
  
I sighed. What should I do now? It was all over. It felt kind of weird, if I may say so. Suddenly, we weren't in mortal danger anymore. Gene Richard Bullett the bank robber had finally lost the little sense he had left. He was crawling about on the bank floor, screaming profanities to his useless gun.  
  
"He shouldn't have fired," I sighed again.  
  
The two other hostages, who by now had calmed down and manged to get pretty angry about the whole thing, stared at me. The most sane of the two spoke to me. "What are you saying, kid? If he hadn't fired, we wouldn't have known it was a water pistol!"  
  
"What if it hadn't been?" I said and shrugged. "I would have been killed."  
  
"No way to know that for sure," he answered. "But it WAS a water pistol, and we could have gotten out of this mess a lot quicker if you had provoked him more from the beginning, then he would have fired sooner."  
  
"Yeah, nice job, kid," the other, crazy guy said. "I could have had dinner with my wife if it wasn't for you. Good going."  
  
And with those words, the two guys walked out of the bank as if nothing in particular had happened. I started at them, then changed my focus to Gene the Bank Robber. He was no longer a Bank Robber, just a poor, insane Mr. Bullett. It almost made me feel sorry for him.  
  
But just almost.  
  
After all, he HAD ruined my potensial date with Polly. Nothing could excuse that, not even a lunatic with a water pistol.  
  
I checked my watch. The film had just finished. Polly and her friends were probably heading home by now. So much for my happiness - and most importantly, a date.  
  
I sighed and strawled out of the bank as the police men ran inside to arrest Gene. I walked away from the scene of the crime, but to me it was no longer a real crime, not the type of crime police men wants to prosecute. Gene the Bank Robber wasn't a criminal any longer, just a madman.  
  
But the crime comitted, was denying me my date.  
  
And no lawyer would prosecute that.  
  
  
  
***  
  
Well, that's it then! The story of the Hostages is finished... What do you think? I really enjoyed writing about both Marco and Gene the Bank Robber, so if anyone would like a sequal of some sort, maybe I'll write one if I get any requests... Well, please review my little story! 


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